Courage
by iNomCupcakees
Summary: Kurt has an awful run-in with Karofsky, but luckily, Blaine comes along to make it better.
1. Prolouge: Courage

AN: I hereby present my first Fanficiton, ever. Kurt gets beaten up by Karofsky, but it's alright, Blaine is there to make it all better. Huzzah.

Useless retaliation combats each painful punch, and at this point I know there's little reason for me to fight back. He's won. He always wins. With another blow to my stomach, I involuntarily curl in on myself. I'm not sure how long this act has been going on, but before I let myself fall victim to the dark, I remember a single word, mouthed by a beautiful voice. **Courage.**

"Kurt, wake up! Dammit, Kurt. Stop fooling around."

_Stop shaking me. Stop it. That hurts._

"Open your eyes. Now."

_Why won't you listen? I don't want to open my eyes… don't make me._

And yet, the relentless mutilation of my form continues, but it's gentler than before. These hands aren't trying to hurt me; in fact, they seem to be taking the extra precaution **not** too. After an aggressive battle of mind over matter, I convince my throbbing eyelids to reveal the world. I hear a more than relieved sigh from above me, followed closely by the tangling of fingers in my blood-matted hair. "Morning, buddy." A nervous chuckle climbs up his throat and I can't help but smile from the music it makes.

I yearn to respond to his voice, lust to tell him it's going to be OK, but when I open my mouth nothing comes out but a strangled gulp. My breathing hitches, my chest rising and falling spastically with each rasped inhale. My body craves oxygen, and yet I can't seem to get enough of the sweet element. "Mr. Shuester is coming, bud, just hang in there." I know he's trying to be soothing, but there's no hiding the fear that laces his false vibrato. He places a butterfly light peck to my right temple, assuring me he's here, and not leaving. "He got a few good kicks on your stomach. Just…hang on."

_I can't breath. Blaine, help. Please._ Black dots dance in front of my eyes, a dizzying sensation, far to similar to closing your eyes on a Roller Coaster. "Kurt? Stay with me. Don't close your eyes…" _What? I can't hear you. No… Blaine, come back. Blaine, don't go… _"… Kurt, remember when we met? You're horrible at spying, you know that? Come on, Kurt. Tell me about when we met." _I'm sorry, Blaine. _And with that, I graciously welcome the dark.


	2. Chapter One: One Song Glory

I heard buzzing. Not the harsh buzz of blood rushing past your ears either. The kind of buzz where as soon as you hear it, you know a headache is approaching fast. The subtle sound I heard now was nothing like that. This was the soft hum of bees sucking nectar from the belly of a flower to bring back to their queen. It was oddly ambient, bouncing between my ears as if they were the daisy and the hive. From left to right the buzzing zoomed, creating a dizzying sensation. Yet somehow, my head wasn't spinning at all. Not anymore.

_Throb…_

_ Twitch…_

_ Groan…_

A less than welcoming awakening comes to greet me, the pain didn't seize during my lapse of unconsciousness. I miss my world of nothingness. It didn't hurt there. It was perfect… well, save the fact that my Blaine wasn't there. Blaine. Where was he? "Blaine?" Gasp! That couldn't have been **my** voice cracking inside my ears, could it? I cough noisily, the sound vibrating against the walls, echoing the painful wheeze for all to hear.

I curl into a pained ball; arms wrapped around my torso in a vain attempt to at least ease the pain that's become too familiar. Worst of all, my hair, completely unkempt, and I strikingly lacked a part. No, no there was more important things I should be focusing on, for example, the location of Blaine.

I try to turn my aching head towards the door, where I see two figures hunched over my bedside, and by the looks of it, asleep. If his massive girth didn't give it away, than the loud snoring he was releasing was a sure sign. One figure was one belonging to my father; the other figure was female and no doubt belonged to Carole. My suspicions were confirmed when the female of the two raised her head, blinked away the last remnants of sleep, and turned to look at me disbelievingly. "Kurt, hun, can you hear me?" I nod feebly; her voice is like a hot knife being plunged with little remorse through my skull. My voice is still hoarse, so I pray I can relate my agony to her through a pity-filled glance. Her voice then took on an immediate whisper, she was almost inaudible now, god bless you Carole. "Oh, oh! Sorry. Any more pain, hun?"

My shoulders shake in a silent chuckle, the forced gasps of air escaping despite my current situation. Any more pain? There's been nothing but. Even the depths of my unconscious mind were an illusion; the pain was still there, still gnawing away at my fragile frame. I nod again. She sends me a look of only the utmost sympathy and at that moment I'm deeply appreciative for the presence of a maternal figure. She fiddles with the IV bag situated to the left of me, making sure the pain medication is reaching my body easily. I snap my eyes downwards. I hadn't even noticed the needle numbly pinching into my wrist.

I wanted to speak; I wanted to hear my own voice playing rhythmically in my ears. I lifted a bandaged hand towards Carole, her eyes snapped toward me in an instant. "W..wa..water." I rasped, the burning in my throat seeming to intensify as if to prove my point. She nodded and hurriedly scurried from the room to fetch some form of liquid to ease the sting. I felt the sweat against my forehead and on the tangled mess I dare call hair, a fever? That would explain the shivering despite the suffocating heat threatening to render me delusional. Carole returned what seemed to be only a few seconds later, carrying a bottle of Fiji Water, I'm assuming from the hospital cafeteria. Finn wasn't here either, by process of elimination, I assume they're both in school. Either that or abducted by aliens, but I'll go with the former.

"Bl…blaine? Whe…where?" Ooh, that doesn't feel good, frankly, I feel absolutely terrible. All the strength I regained after swimming up from the depths of unconsciousness has vanished in a flash, leaving me shaking and struggling to remain upright. "He's at Dalton, hun, he didn't want to leave you." She chuckled adoringly before continuing. "We had to force him away from you, I don't think he'll stay out for long."

As if on cue, my sweet, perfectly sculpted prince paraded into the room, displaying intense purpose with his elongated strides. His hair looked just as ghastly as mine, in complete contrast with it's usual gelled splendor. Without hesitation he marched to my side, taking my hand in his own, as if this was a usual routine. How long had I been out? His other hand danced across my scalp, caressing various parts of my head, from my sweat soaked hair with bandages around the circumference, to my far too white cheeks. I let out a contented sigh, leaning into his cool touch involuntarily while he sets his blue eyes on my face.

"M…missed yo..ou." OK, no more talking. Sleep, however, sounds far too appealing…


	3. Chapter Two: I'll Cover You

_Blaine's POV:_

I heard the straggled whimper. It was soft, but the pain etched in was easily recognizable. I could still make out the soft soprano belonging to my boyfriend. Even his agonized wisps of hurt were a gentle chime; it carried down the hallways of McKinley High School drafting right into my ears. Granted, I was already wary on letting him come back here anyway, but he gets these spouts of nostalgia sometimes and just wants to sit in his old choir room.

Normally, I blatantly refuse his desire, which is harder than you would think. He'd open his green eyes as big a newborn puppy and then bat his long eyelashes in a silent beg. At first, it was nearly torture to say no to him, but he just seemed so genuinely sad today that I was forced into granting his request. Despite what my gut was telling me, I let him come. I knew deep down this was a bad idea. McKinley wasn't safe for him. That's why he left in the first place.

So, when I heard that noise, I broke. There's no other way to say it. I split in two and felt like crumpling into a disorderly heap. Luckily, my instincts overtook the emotional strain and I felt my legs running toward the source of the sound. The image of you brought the little control I was holding to a dramatic halt. You were bleeding…loosing too much of the precious crimson liquid. Oh, Kurt, you were barely moving. Just the subtle rise and fall of your chest, barely there. I didn't want to go near you, you were just to precious and fragile, if I came too close you'd break. "Kurt?" I whispered and you just let out the most heartbreaking moan in response. Your lips parted slightly and I had to turn away swiftly to prevent my eyes from meeting the sight of your opened mouth. Blood was coating your teeth.

I grasped your hand and rocked you gently. Your eyes kept rolling like a single marble in a massive cup. I patted your cheeks with feather-light taps, hoping to rouse you. "Kurt, wake up! Dammit, Kurt. Stop fooling around." Dainty wheezes followed by forced gasps erupted from your throat and with each commanded inhale my worry increased tenfold. My Kurt. My sarcastic, witty, sweet, passionate Kurt. What had they done to you? How could anyone hurt you? "Open your eyes. Now." I nearly choked out, trying to hold in a sob.

I didn't mean to sound harsh, but I needed you to understand. You couldn't sleep. I needed your green eyes open and alert. So, when your eyelids fluttered and you blinked I couldn't help my body from releasing a shuddering breath. My fingers twitched to hold you closer but I was nearly petrified to stone with worry. One slip of my thumb and you could shatter. The temptation didn't ease, however, and my hands caressed your scalp even as I mentally screamed at them to stop. "Morning, buddy. Mr. Shuester is coming, bud, just hang in there." I cooed. You wheezed again and turned away from me to sputter out puddles of blood. The tears fell freely now as I watched in horror. You gagged and wheezed against your own blood. As you fell limp against me, the words poured from me without my consent. I had to keep you awake. I had too. "He got a few good kicks on your stomach. Just…hang on." I kept talking in the vain hope that you were listening, that you were keeping the darkness at bay. I can honestly say I have no idea what I was saying; I just kept talking, humming, singing for what felt like hours. When your eyes closed completely and you sagged against me, my voice died abruptly, only to be replaced with the audible sobs I couldn't hold in anymore.

*GLEE*

Mr. Shuester coming, you being loaded into the ambulance at record time, the vacant look on your face as you slept – I liked to think you were sleeping on your own accord, not unconscious – it all passed by in a blurry haze. I don't really remember much of what happened, just your labored breaths and the sound of your whimpers playing like a damned drum beat through my head. It was all I could hear, all I could think. I kept my fingers firmly intertwined with yours, even as the paramedics tried to unchain us. It felt as though if I let go, you'd fade away forever. That I had to be touching some part of you or… I didn't want to think about what might happen.

I remember dropping into hysterics when they rolled you away into the ER. They forced me away from you. I called out after you, screaming for you to wake up or come back and take my hand. You never did. A nurse bustled by and offered me some scrubs to wear as she tried to calm me down; it was only at that moment I noticed I had your blood staining my arms and shirt. The room started spinning and I felt so horribly sick. Your blood was on me… Blood you unwillingly spilled. Blood that was _taken_ from you. I needed it off; it felt like it was eroding through my skin, acidic and burning. I nodded fervently toward the nurse. "Th-thanks, " I quavered, tasting the saltiness of freshly cried tears touch my tongue.

I kept shuddering and shaking in the waiting room chair, barely acknowledging how uncomfortable the piece of furniture was. I couldn't shake the feeling that you were dying. You were leaving me. How could you? I let my head fall into my hands and let the rage envelope me completely. I wanted whoever hurt you murdered. I wanted them to feel the pain you were in now… I wanted _their _blood to coat my hands. I couldn't let you die. Not my Kurt.

*GLEE*

I made the usual board onto the elevator, pressing the button that would take me to you without thought. It had been a week since I found you; this routine was nothing new to me. I greeted the nurses with a solemn smile. As nice as they had been, the circumstances of how we started talking weren't ideal. I opened the door to your room, the scene exactly the same as it had been for days. Your dad was positioned on your left, grasping your hand in between both of his fleshier ones. He nodded to me in greeting, but his eyes didn't stay on me for long, they shifted right back to yours – as they always did. Carole was next to him, rubbing small circles on his back. A nice gesture, but everyone knew it was doing little to ease the stress that had built in his bones.

I took my certified spot on your right. I intertwined our fingers. I held you tightly, hating that yours remained limp. I placed a soft kiss to your cold flesh and fingered the vain in your wrist, thanking any deity I could think of that your pulse still palpated. I kept your hand raised toward my chin, pressing it back to my lips periodically, or rubbing the silken skin across my cheek.

I missed the sweet yet corruptive way your limbs would entangle mine. I missed the way our voices blended in the simplest of perfections when we sang together. The notes would spiral and whirl as tantalizingly as the cosmos. We tasted the stars, Kurt. We let the drips of galactic fire dance across our tongues, creating the rarest but most genuine form of song. We match. Now, you were swimming with those very same stars, but I selfishly wanted you to come back to Earth. To come back to me.

*GLEE*

My hands trembled when Carole hassled me out of the room. I couldn't break; I couldn't let myself cry just because they wanted me to go to school. I hadn't eaten much since they announced you were comatose. I hadn't really done much of anything other than sit beside you and hold your hand. How could I be expected to go back to Dalton? Carry on with the mundane activity of learning trigonometry while you could very well be _dying_ in another town? I took a few deep breaths, ignoring everything that threatened to hurt me. I just had to go to school. Just, go to school. Simple enough, right?


	4. Author's Note!

A/N: Hello, my lovely readers!

...Don't look at me like that!

I know, I know, you can say it.  
Hit me with Wes' gavel.  
Have Finn kick a chair over into my face.

I haven't updated _Courage_ is a painfully long time. Oh, and yup! You guessed it! I'm going to give you all the same old excused authors are constantly using. School got in the way and writing took a seat on the back burner. However, my friends, this is being amended! Happily in November, I've gotten in to the swing of my Junior year and feel comfortable enough to continue writing. _Courage _is my first writing priority at this point, and I've already started working on Chapter Three. Thank you all for sticking around and Chapter Three should be up in no less than a month (maybe less if you give me cookies.)

Sincerely,  
Jamie


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